Monday, 18 August 2014

No cheese and no ice cream. And, also, oversharing.

I have suddenly become one of Those People. It's a feared term in my Urban Family, as Those People are often people who are frustratingly annoying in the way they do things. However, I was one of "those youth leaders" who fall in love with the other youth leader, so you could say that sometimes things work out well for me.

I used to work with some of Those People Who Thought Gluten Free Diets Worked and Would Cure All Their Issues. No, that just made them look like complete morons. Then, when I got sick, they were telling me I should go GF. That's gluten free, not girlfriend, as that could be awkward to say the least. I ignored them, subsequently got sacked/resigned and started drinking lots of Milo.

Now, to be completely honest, I really like food. I'm not a foodie, but I freaking love gourmet hamburgers and food trucks and Greek food and really nice pizza (hello Evida). So, realising that I can't eat from a long list of my Favourite Foods EVER really sucks.

But, well, how did I know I was sick?
I had (have? it depends
on what I've eaten) the worst pain on my right hand side I have ever
experienced. It seems I have a beautiful appendix that I can keep, and
also a gorgeous liver (thank you Doctor Awesome Sauce). I could feel
nauseous after brekky and lunch. I just didn't feel well. I run on intuition a lot, so if I'm actually unwell, I do know... well most of the time.

Long story short: I started feeling pretty unwell after I came home from India. I have been tested for almost everything under the sun for things I think are probably pretty unrelated to feeling queasy. For a while everyone thought I was pregnant (yay) but I wasn't (disappointing, all things considered). My doctor kept prescribing tasty concoctions people generally take before colonoscopies over a three week period, so not only did I feel really sick, I literally had no fuel to exist and may have spent a very miserable weekend on the couch not being able to do anything. Then I sent myself to the hospital where they prescribed more stuff. I was death warmed up for a few days. There may have been some tears. (Okay, there were plenty of tears.)

So then my Doctor Awesome Sauce cleared out of Kadina without telling me, so I had to go see some crazy old doctor guy who said I had IBS (no testing, just assumed that's what I had) and needed to have an ultra expensive CT scan, which is only available some Thursdays here on the Copper Coast at Wallaroo Hospital. So, screw him, I thought and cleared out to see my actual doctor in Adelaide who sent me off to a specialist who said my stomach pains are probably stress related. And bulk billed me! Trips to our local and private hospital had cost me an arm and a leg and with massive gap payments at the doctors, my sad little bank account was rapidly declining.

But, and this is the frustrating part, after my death warmed up four day weekend in which I could have quite happily traded in my life for something better than watching Stephen eat 'fun food' like chips and chocolate, I started to realise that maybe it was milk that was making me feel unwell. So I eliminated cheese and milk (but not chocolate), and see to only be getting The Worst Pain Ever after I ate the things on my favourite foods list.

So, all things considered, I am living a somewhat dairy free life. It seems I can have small amounts of milk in my tea, but that's about it. With all the GF rubbish and a strong distaste for BBQ chicken from Woolworths (read: HATE) I was eating a lot of yoghurt at work for lunch, and coupled with my three times a day Milo consumption, I was a woman keeping the dairy industry in business. Once I was home during the day I had a lot more choice about what I ate and the yoghurts haven't made a reappearance since.

You'd think I would be happy with figuring out what was causing all my crazy pain. Well, yes, but there is a problem with this. Well, several:
1. I keep forgetting that there are certain things which I can't have. I had a caramel/chocolate sundae the other day and felt incredibly unwell. It was only later that I realised I can't have icecream. Blurgh!
2. It means changing up my staple menu items. No more pasta or Mexican or baked potatoes, except without sour cream and cheese. And this makes me feel sad because cheese and sour cream makes it better.
3. I don't mind boundaries. Okay, well, I do if they are long term things about Stuff You Cannot Say, Think or Do. But then I get the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life and think 'yeah, that really wasn't worth it'.

I wrote this blog because lots of the gal pals keep checking up on me. So here it is ladies. I'm not unwell, I just don't need to buy a cow to keep my Milo drinking habits in line with the cheque book*.

I haven't been tested for lactose or dairy intolerance yet (that will come after seeing my specialist again), so at this stage I'm still like annoying GF girls at work. Nothing like self diagnosing. But, well, I think I may have cured myself. And that's a good thing.